


A Royal Kidnapping

by penguinated



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-03-12 05:38:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 10,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13540851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penguinated/pseuds/penguinated
Summary: Éomer and Soriel are in wedded bliss and expecting their first child. All their loved ones come to meet her, but what will they do when the princess goes missing? And at the hands of someone they trust? An adventure lies ahead for the new King and Queen of Rohan!





	1. A Dream

                Soriel gazed lovingly down at her swollen belly. She caressed it with her hands, putting all the love she felt for her child into the touch. Éomer was convinced it was a boy, but she had a feeling this one was a girl. They had already discussed names for both cases and prepared a nursery. All that was left now was for it to arrive.

                Soriel pondered her life. She had never expected that she would be a queen, but here she was, Queen of Rohan, and she carried a prince or princess inside her. Her husband was King Éomer, who had also not expected to be king, but his poor cousin was slain during the War of the Ring. They were together now, though, and the king and queen were as happy as either of them could remember.

                As she looked down upon her future family, Soriel felt a sharp pain in her lower abdomen. Orcs were suddenly all about her, mounted on Wargs, which snarled at snapped at her. She tried to call out for Éomer, but her voice was gone. She looked down again, and an arrow was sticking out of her. She was bleeding from her belly, and her child was surely dead.

                Emotion began to overtake her. This could not be! She could not lose another baby! This could not be happening again!

                Her eyes suddenly snapped open and she bolted upright in her bed. Breathing heavily, Soriel looked about her chambers. Éomer stirred beside her and sat up, rubbing his tired eyes. She was afraid to look down, in case her dream was true, and her baby was dead.

                “Soriel?” he questioned. “What troubles you, my love?”

                She turned tearful eyes on him. “The baby…”

                “What about him?” he wondered, looking her up and down. “Are you alright?”

                She placed shaking hands on her belly before glancing down at it. To her immense relief, there was nothing there. Éomer placed his hands on it as well and rubbed soothingly.

                “A bad dream?” he asked.

                She nodded, blinking back her tears. “I dreamt I had been shot with an arrow. The same as my first baby.”

                Soriel’s first child had been that of her former lover, Boromir of Gondor, who died early on in the quest of the Fellowship of the Ring. She had lost the baby on the way to the fortress of Helm’s Deep shortly after meeting Éomer.

                “There are no Orcs to harm us now,” he assured her. “Our child is very safe.”

                She nodded, and took deep breaths. Then, she felt movement from her belly.

                “Éomer!” she gasped. “Did you feel that?”

                He beamed. “Yes! He kicked!”

                “He did!” she cried. “I feel as if he is reassuring me of his own life!”

                “You see?” he said. “He is strong.”

                She smiled at him and took his hand. “Strong like his father.”

                “So, are you starting to believe it is a boy?” he asked, a smirk dancing on his lips.

                “Well, I do not know that,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I only know that a powerful prince or princess of Rohan is almost ready to see the world.”

                Éomer pressed his lips to her stomach.

                “Whenever you’re ready, little one,” his whispered.

                She grinned. Her heart felt as if it could burst from the overwhelming love she had for her baby and husband. She combed his hair with her fingers, and they both slowly drifted back to sleep.


	2. A New Handmaid

                The following day, Éomer and Soriel sat in court to address needs of the people. This was never an easy or interesting task, as people needed less and less as the war fell further into the past. They were glad of this. They wanted their people to be happy and prosper. One woman caught Soriel’s eye, as she was ragged in appearance. Her hair was frayed and unkempt. Her clothes were torn and she had no shoes. The queen’s heart was moved with pity.

                “What can we offer you, good woman?” she asked.

                “It is me who will be doing the offering, m’lady,” the woman said. “I wish to serve you, as a handmaid. If you will have me.”

                Éomer, who had made no attempt to hide his disgust at the woman’s appearance, leaned close to his wife now to whisper in her ear.

                “Be careful,” he said. “That woman is of Dunland. They joined with Saruman to attack Helm’s Deep. There is peace between us now, but it is difficult to say if there is peace in all hearts.”

                “If there is peace then let there be peace,” Soriel replied. “Would you have me turn her away?”

                “I leave this to you if she is to be in your service,” he said.

                She sat upright and spoke clearly to the woman. “What is your name?”

                “Weynild, my lady,” she said. In her eyes, there was a fierceness. A passion that the queen could not quite name.

                “Welcome to Meduseld, Weynild,” Soriel said with a smile. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Éomer frown. “My other handmaids will help you get cleaned up and prepared for service.”

                “Thank you, my queen,” Weynild said with a deep bow. “Thank you.”

                She was then led away as Soriel instructed.

                When they finished in the hall, the king and queen retired to their chambers. Soriel closed the door behind them.

                “You are displeased with me,” she said simply. “If you did not wish for me to take on Weynild, you only had to say so. You are my husband, I will heed your commands.”

                “I do not wish to command you,” he returned. “I am your husband, not your master. But I do not trust Weynild. I admire your giving heart, my love, but there has long been strife between her people and ours. They have never offered themselves to us before.”

                “You told me there is peace now,” she reminded him.

                “Yes, we showed them mercy after Helm’s Deep, and they sent ambassadors to King Aragorn after the war,” Éomer said. “It is not yet a strong truce.”

                Soriel had not considered this. Weynild seemed so desperate for this position. Her eyes were determined and yet there was something missing in them.

                “I maintain we should give her this chance,” she said. “If her intention is to do ill, how much could she inflict? She is but one woman surrounded by soldiers of the Mark.”

                “Alright,” he conceded. “Perhaps my own heart is still hardened from the war.”

                “I know the softness of your heart, my love,” she returned, caressing his cheek in her palm. “You are a good and just king. The concern of Weynild comes from love for me.”

                “And our son,” he added.

                “You know I am still not convinced it is a boy,” she said.

                “Just wait,” he said with a smirk. “You will see when he is born.”

                “As you say, Éomer,” she chuckled.


	3. The Arrival

                A month passed, and Soriel was awoken in the night by pain in her belly. It came and went within minutes. The midwife was summoned and told Soriel she was in labor. Éomer was quickly dismissed from the room while more handmaids rushed inside. The king was not pleased at being so abruptly banished from his own bed, but he knew that what was coming meant more than wounded pride. His child was arriving. He went to his study to write to everyone so they might come and see the baby. He wrote letters to Aragorn and Arwen, Faramir and Éowyn, Legolas and Leila, Gimli, Merry, and Pippin. As he put his pen to parchment, he noticed the shake of his own hand. His excitement could not be contained.

                In just a few short hours, a princess of Rohan was among them. It was Weynild who fetched Éomer, and she grinned widely.

                “She is here, my lord!” she told him breathlessly.

                “She?” he questioned, but he could not stop the smile that claimed his lips. “I have a daughter?”

                “Yes, my lord,” she assured him. “A beautiful daughter!”

                He laughed with joy, and pulled Weynild into an embrace. Then he dashed off to his room to be with Soriel. He panted as he came in, and saw his wife lying back on the bed. Sweat plastered her hair to her forehead and neck, and tears streamed down her face. In her arms, wrapped in a bundle, was his daughter. The midwife patted Soriel on the shoulder.

                “This wife of yours is resilient, my lord,” she said to Éomer. “She will bear you many strong children such as this.”

                “How is she?” he asked.

                “Mother and baby are in good condition,” she assured him.

                He took a seat on the bed next to his wife. Gently, he pushed her hair out of her face and she looked up at him through her joyful tears.

                “It is a girl,” she said.

                “I know,” he replied, kissing her forehead.

                “Are you disappointed?” she asked.

                He looked down at the tiny face of his daughter. This little defenseless creature he and Soriel created through love. His heart swelled. It felt three times its usual size, for he had never known such a love. Tears sprang up in his eyes.

                “Soriel, I have never been so happy,” he said. It was true, as he had not stopped smiling since leaving his study.

                “I feel the same,” she agreed, and then he kissed her. It did not last long because of their grinning, but neither cared.  

                They called their little girl Éadwynn.

                In the coming weeks, their friends all came to see the new princess. Aragorn came, though without Arwen, who stayed behind to care for her new son. She did, however, send her best wishes to her friend. Faramir and Éowyn came bearing gifts for their niece. Legolas and Leila arrived as well with Gimli. Merry and Pippin arrived last, being the farthest away, but were just as thrilled as the others for their friends.

                “She is beautiful, Soriel!” Leila squealed as they all gazed upon the babe, now surrounded by the toys and clothes these lords and ladies brought her.

                “Thank you!” Soriel returned. “And she is such a wonderful baby.”

                “Were you disappointed she is a girl?” Éowyn asked her brother.

                He shook his head. “Not at all. The next one will be a boy, though, I’m sure of it.”

                “The next one?!” Soriel laughed. “Let us first enjoy the one we have!”

                He smiled and kissed her on the cheek. She giggled.

                “Would anyone like to hold her?” Éomer offered.

                “Oh, yes!” Pippin agreed enthusiastically. They turned surprised eyes on him.

                “Don’t worry,” Merry assured them. “He’s had plenty of practice with his own.”

                “Pip!” Leila cried. “You did not tell us you had a child!”

                “Well, it’s been so busy in the Shire,” Pippin replied, as Soriel began taking Éadwynn out of her crib. “I’ve hardly had time with my son.”

                “A son!” Soriel added. “Well, congratulations to you, Pip!”

                “What’s his name?” Leila asked.

                Pippin flushed a little before he met Faramir’s gaze. “We decided to name him Faramir. Faramir Took.”

                Faramir’s eyes went wide. “I…what?!”

                He was so stunned his knees buckled a little and Éowyn put her arm around him for support, but he did not stop looking at the Hobbit. Pippin was grinning widely.

                “Yes,” he said. “I wanted to name him for the noblest man I know.”

                Faramir separated himself from his wife, and approached Pippin. He fell on his knees and put his hands on the Hobbit’s shoulders.

                “Peregrin Took,” he said, choking on his words as tears sprang to his eyes. “I have never been so honored in my life.”

                With that, he pulled Pippin into a hug. Pippin chuckled, a little embarrassed, but pleased that Faramir was so touched. When they broke apart, both rubbed their eyes before clapping one another on the shoulder. Faramir got to his feet and returned to Éowyn, who was beaming at him. Then Pippin turned to Soriel with his arms outstretched to receive Éadwynn. It was such a beautiful moment, and Faramir was clearly still shocked that he had inspired anyone so. Pippin gushed about the girl in his arms.

                “She is precious,” he said.

                “Thank you so much,” Soriel replied. “You must soon bring baby Faramir to visit. I’m sure he is just as wonderful.”

                Leila wanted to hold her next, so Pip passed her along. Leila was careful with the baby, as if afraid she might break in half. Soriel came over and gazed upon her daughter’s face.

                “See, Éadwynn?” she cooed. “This is your Aunt Leila.”

                The baby stirred and gurgled a little as she blinked up at them.

                “She has Éomer’s eyes,” Leila observed. “Big and brown.”

                Soriel nodded. “She does.”

                “She wears them better,” Éomer joked, and they all laughed.

                Éadwynn was passed around, so everyone got to hold her. Meanwhile, they caught up with one another. Pippin told them about his marriage to a Hobbit lass called Diamond, and little Faramir. Merry was unmarried, but busy with building up the Shire. Aragorn was incredibly busy. He had meetings almost every day, on top of being a new parent as well. Leila, Legolas, and Gimli were still traveling and exploring parts of Middle Earth they wanted to see more of. Faramir and Éowyn were enjoying being married, and seemed more in love than ever. After a while, the baby fussed and cried.

                “My lady, it is time for the princess to go down for a nap,” Weynild said as she approached.

                “I suppose so,” Soriel agreed with a sigh, and passed her daughter off to her handmaid. “Tell me at once if she gets hungry.”

                “Yes, my lady,” Weynild said. She gave the others a small bow before departing.

                Éowyn’s brow furrowed. “Is that woman of Dunland?”

                Soriel explained to Éowyn just as she had to Éomer that she wanted to give Weynild a chance to enjoy the peace between the Rohirrim and Dunlendings now. Éowyn seemed skeptical, and looked at her brother.

                “I allow Soriel complete control over her handmaids,” he said. “Her service, her choice.”

                “I believed it was important to show good faith,” Soriel elaborated.

                “That is wise,” Aragorn agreed. “You must first show trust and mercy if you wish for it from others. The Dunlendings sent an envoy to me after the war and we had an agreement. They should be able to live and work in Middle Earth.”

                Éowyn conceded the point, but she and Éomer locked eyes and understood that they both still suspected Weynild.


	4. Éadwynn Missing

                The next day, Soriel and Éomer hosted a large breakfast in the Golden Hall. She was sure to include extra food for the Hobbits, so they would not feel like they missed out on a second breakfast while they were in the king and queen’s company. She did find it odd that no one had summoned her yet this morning to feed Éadwynn, but she figured she must still be sleeping. The later it got, the more Soriel worried. She watched her dearest friends as they ate a joked together, but also looked around for her handmaids. None of them were present. This was especially strange.

                “If you all will excuse me,” she said politely. “I must go and check on the princess.”

                They all assured her it was fine, so she smiled and left. She made her way to the nursery, and with every step, felt her heart rate increase. She heard voices coming from the baby’s room. Worry crept into her heart. When she reached the door, she feared to open it.

                “Hello?” called a voice from inside. Soriel recognized it as one of her handmaids, Dora. “Is anyone out there? Please, we’re locked in!”

                “Dora?” Soriel returned. “Who locked you in there?”

                “Queen Soriel!” Dora cried in what sounded like relief. “Please, let us out!”

                “Of course!” Soriel assured her and ran to retrieve the keys from her own chambers. She hurtled back toward the nursery and with shaking hands unlocked the door. Dora was there with two other handmaids, but Weynild was not present.           

                “What happened?” Soriel demanded. “Where is Éadwynn? And where is Weynild?”

                “Please, my lady, we did everything we could,” Dora said. “But Weynild held the princess and locked us in this room. We know not where she went.”

                Soriel felt as if a great hand had taken hold of her chest and was squeezing it tight. She could not draw breath. She clutched Dora, who stabilized her.

                “My lady?” Dora asked.

                “Come with me to the hall,” Soriel said, finding her voice again. “You all must eat if you have been locked in this room since the night. And we must alert the guards.”

                They all hurried back down the corridor to the throne room where the guests still ate. Soriel told her handmaids to sit and eat as much as they liked.

                “What’s going on?” Éomer wondered as he took in his wife’s expression.

                “Weynild has gone missing,” Soriel told him. “And so has Éadwynn.”

                She heard gasps from around the table, but she could only look at Éomer. She felt so foolish now. He was right all along about Weynild and she had been too naïve to just trust her husband. She inwardly vowed never to make that mistake again. Éomer got to his feet. 

                “Guards!” he called. “Search every corner of this castle for the Dunlending woman Weynild and the princess. If they are not here…we ride out after them.”

                “King Éomer,” said Gamling. “There is no need to search Meduseld. Across from the nursery, there was a rope out the window. She must have already escaped with the princess.”

                Soriel let out a cry like a wounded animal and sank to her knees. Leila was instantly at her side, holding her and whispering words of comfort. Éomer felt like his heart had been torn from his chest and ripped in half. His precious baby girl was gone and there was no telling where they would find her. His wife was distraught as he had never seen her before. Yes, she was devastated when she lost her first child, but this was different. She had carried this one and brought it into the world before it was taken from her. He looked at her and felt like he had been punched in the gut.

                “Gamling, fetch me my sword and armor, we are going after them right away,” he said, gathering himself. He looked at his friends. “I would greatly appreciate your help, particularly you, King Aragorn. We will need your tracking abilities.”

                Aragorn nodded in agreement.

                “I’m coming too,” Leila said, a determined gleam in her eye.

                “I will come as well,” Faramir offered. “I was also a Ranger in Ithilien, and while my skills are not as sharp as the king’s I can do my part.”

                Legolas, Gimli, Merry, and Pippin agreed to come also. Éomer looked at his sister.

                “I shall remain here with Soriel,” Éowyn said. “She will need support during this difficult time.”

                “Very well,” Éomer said, ignoring the number of questions that raised in his mind. “All of you prepare, we leave in five minutes.”

                They dispersed to gather belongings and weapons.


	5. Éowyn’s Secret

Éowyn’s heart twisted at her choice to stay behind on this journey, though her reason was fair. She had planned today to announce that she was with child, but now it seemed rather insensitive. No one yet knew of it, not even Faramir. She was glad now that she had not spoken. When she saw the devastation of her brother’s family, she flared up and wanted desperately to help find her niece. But she could not risk her own child. Thus, she would remain in Edoras. Perhaps, she thought, she could be of help to Soriel, who would likely struggle through this on her own.

She sat now with Éomer as he got ready, and he rattled off instructions for her in order to maintain Edoras while he was away. He was absentmindedly packing things, adding more weapons to his person, and he stopped midway through sentences to pause and shake his head. Éowyn was moved with pity. Éomer was angry, yes, but he was also terribly sad.

“Éomer,” she said suddenly, interrupting him. He looked intensely at her. “You need not put on airs for me. I know you are hurting.”

It was with her permission he allowed himself to feel that sadness. The mask of anger faded and he showed his sorrow. He sat beside her on the bed. She offered her hand, which he took without hesitation. For a moment, they were children again. The same as when their parents died. It was in this same room they sat, and clasped hands to share their grief.

“I’m sorry,” she said, finally looking at him.

A tear escaped his eye and slipped down his cheek, and he looked at the ground. “That’s my little girl, Éowyn. My daughter…”

“I know,” she replied, squeezing her fingers a little tighter around his hand. “You will find her. I know you will.”

“How are you so certain?” he wondered, meeting her gaze at last.

“Because you have never in your life failed at something you determined you would do,” she told him with a small smile. “You have always been there for me and for Soriel, and now you will be there for your daughter.”

He seemed comforted by the words. At least, he sat a little taller. Then he pressed his lips to her hand.

“Thank you, Éowyn,” he whispered.

She took him into her arms and held him for a moment. When they broke apart and smiled at one another, they heard a soft knock on the doorway. It was Faramir.

“Éomer,” he said. “We are waiting for you in the main hall.”

 Éomer cleared his throat and rose. “Very well. I’m ready to go.”

Éowyn also got to her feet and followed her brother and husband out to the entrance of Meduseld to meet the rest of the party. Soriel was already there, embracing Leila before the parting. As Soriel said goodbye to the others, Leila came to Éowyn.

“You cannot be persuaded to come with us?” she asked.

Éowyn shook her head. “I gave up the sword long ago. Besides, Soriel should not be alone.”

Leila eyed her suspiciously but asked no more questions. She gave Éowyn a hug and then joined Legolas by the door. Then it was Faramir’s turn to say goodbye to his wife.

“Be careful, my love,” Éowyn said as Faramir pulled her into his arms.

“Always,” he promised, kissing her sweetly on the head.

Then, after a swift peck on the lips, they parted.

Éomer went to Soriel and wrapped her in an embrace.

“I will come back,” he said. “Even if I have not my arms or my head, I will return to you.”

Soriel did not smile as she usually did at his customary assurance. It made him ache.

“I know you will,” she returned with a tremble to her voice. “You have never failed me, Éomer.”

“And I will not now,” he said and kissed her softly.

“Come,” he said to his party, which included their friends as well as some Rohirrim soldiers. “Our horses are waiting for us.”

Soriel and Éowyn followed them out to the front steps of the Golden Hall, and then watched as they mounted their horses. The husbands shared one last meaningful look with their wives before they turned and set off away from the Golden Hall.

When they were out of sight, Soriel swept away back inside. Éowyn was taken off guard by this, and followed after her. Soriel went to the nursery, and by the time Éowyn caught up to her there, she heard the queen weeping. Éowyn had no idea what to do. She and Soriel had never become very close during the war, and now they lived so far apart the opportunities to form a relationship were few and far between. Although, Soriel had been very helpful in easing Éowyn’s reservations about her wedding night. That had been a huge breakthrough for them, but this felt so much larger. Éowyn had honestly never felt so helpless. She stepped into the nursery and approached Soriel.

“You know the first time Éomer rode a horse, he cried?” Éowyn said.

“What?” Soriel replied, though she actually giggled.

Éowyn nodded. “He was terrified. Of course, many children are frightened of horses at first, but Éomer wailed and wailed. Our father was horrified. I heard him say to my uncle once, ‘How can he ever be a Marshal of the Rohirrim if he shrieks at the sight of a horse? Even my daughter is not so weak!’”

For a second, Soriel seemed totally stumped by this story. But then, she laughed. Éowyn chuckled too at the memory. She was very young at the time, but she could still recall the look on Éomer’s face that day. And how embarrassed he was.

“He overcame it, obviously, but I remember Father forcing him to ride every day for hours until he at last became skilled,” she finished.

Soriel wiped the tears from her face as she stopped laughing. “Thank you, Éowyn,” she said with a sniffle. 

“If you ever have need of an amusing story about Éomer, I have plenty,” Éowyn said, and put her arm around Soriel’s shoulders. “I am here for you, my sister.”


	6. The First Clue

Éomer no longer allowed himself to think about what might be happening to his daughter or of Soriel’s sadness. As he always did when he went to battle, he pushed those thoughts to another place in his head and focused only on the task at hand. That was how he handled such things: carry them in your heart, not in your mind.

Aragorn led the way as they started out of the capital and followed a horse’s tracks northwest toward the Westfold. Éomer assumed they would be heading for Dunland, for where else could Weynild be going to be safe? Then again, they did not yet know how many people were involved in this or if Weynild was acting alone. It did not seem likely. However, Aragorn turned them further north.

“The tracks lead toward the forest of Fangorn!” he shouted back to them.

Confused, but relieved they still had tracks at all, Éomer followed him. They came to a halt outside the woods, after less than half a day’s ride. There, Aragorn dismounted and the company followed suit. He knelt down and inspected the ground.

“She abandoned her horse here,” he said. “The horse’s tracks lead away from the forest, but she went in.”

Gimli groaned. “I’ve already spent more time in this wood than I’d ever desired.”

“I think one time was more than you ever desired, Gimli,” Legolas teased.

“Aye, you’re right there, lad,” Gimli agreed.

“She entered Fangorn alone?” Leila wondered. “Is that not dangerous?”

“She was not alone,” Aragorn pointed out. “She joined a group of at least five before going in.”

“So, there are more behind this plot,” Éomer said, mostly to himself.

“Well, let’s be going then,” Pippin said cheerfully. “With any luck, they’ve run into Treebeard and he’s holding them for us.”

“I don’t think Treebeard would know what they were up to, Pip,” Merry said. 

The rest of the company tethered their horses to low hanging limbs and then went readily inside, but Éomer and Faramir glanced uneasily at one another. They and the other Rohirrim had never been in Fangorn before. Éomer heard pretty horrifying stories of this forest when he was growing up, and he was still wary of it now. He knew better than to challenge the trees which were said to be very much alive.

“I suppose we have no choice,” Faramir said with a sigh.

“I suppose so,” Éomer agreed, and then followed behind the quickly disappearing company ahead of them.

Faramir fell in step beside him. “Who is Treebeard?” he whispered.

Éomer only shrugged. “I would venture to say he is a friend of the Hobbit’s.”

“That hardly puts my mind at ease,” Faramir returned.

Éomer smirked. As different as he was from his brother-in-law, he liked him.

They walked for a while, and Aragorn and the other members of the Fellowship seemed sure of the way, particularly Legolas, Leila, Merry, and Pippin. These four had spent the most time in the forest. They talked and laughed as they progressed, and Éomer felt a stab of irritation. This was not some trip for merriment’s sake. His daughter was missing! Before he could say anything, Pippin came to an abrupt halt and picked something up from the ground. All laughter and talk ceased as the Hobbit approached King Éomer.

“I’m sorry, my lord,” Pippin said, and passed Éomer the object in his hand.

Éomer took it as his throat became tight. It was Éadwynn’s rattle. He actually made it for her before Soriel had given birth. It was in the shape of a horse. With considerable difficulty, he swallowed.

“It’s the princess’s,” he said thickly.

“Take heart,” Aragorn said, clapping Éomer on the shoulder. “This means she is close by.”

Éomer cleared his throat and shook his head before tucking the rattle away beneath his armor. “We should press on.”

They continued their pace, with everyone keeping close eyes on the ground for any more clues. None came, but then Faramir noticed incredibly large tracks in the earth.

“These are strange tracks,” he remarked.

Aragorn crossed over to him and looked. “Those are Ent tracks.”

“I know those tracks,” Merry said, having a look himself. “That’s Treebeard!”

“You see?” Pippin interjected. “He might be able to help us after all.”

“We are not looking for an Ent, we are looking for my daughter,” Éomer said impatiently.

“Treebeard knows this forest, and the other trees might have seen her,” Pippin returned.

“With what eyes?!” Éomer challenged, exasperated.

“Éomer,” Faramir said. “We should take any help we can get.”

“We cannot afford to be sidetracked,” Éomer insisted. “We follow the path of the Dunlendings, not the Ents.”

“Éomer is right,” Aragorn said. “If we meet the Ent by chance we might enlist him, but we must pursue the Dunlendings. Time is of the upmost importance to retrieving the princess unharmed.”

No one argued with him and so they ignored the tracks of Treebeard and followed Weynild and her party deeper into the woods. A sense of dread came over them as the sun sank lower into the sky and they still had not caught up to the kidnappers. They decided to stop for the night (much to Éomer’s disappointment) since they would not be able to see in the dark and the woods were still unsafe.  

They did not start a fire, since the trees around them could not be burned and were still sensitive to their treatment when Saruman was at the height of his power. They ate _lembas_ bread to hold them over. The Hobbits and Gimli dozed some while Aragorn smoked his pipe. Legolas and Leila leaned against each other and spoke softly together. Faramir chatted with the other Rohirrim soldiers.

Éomer could not relax. He forced himself to at least take one bite of bread so he could keep his strength. With no immediate task at hand, his mind was spinning with thoughts of his daughter. Where was she? How was she being treated? Did she have any idea she was in danger? If so, could she possibly sense that he was coming for her? He shook his head. Whether she knew it or not, he was coming for her. And he always would.


	7. A Mysterious Shadow

Soriel never relied on sleep, but with worry in her heart, she felt rather weary. Out of habit alone, she climbed into her and Éomer’s bed for the night, knowing that she would not be able to rest. She had hoped that after a day she might hear from her husband and his company, but no word had yet reached them about the pursuit of the princess.

The queen felt lonely. This was the worst turmoil she had faced since the war, but back then she had so much support. Leila was always a comfort, and of course Éomer, along with Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli. Even Merry and Pippin cheered her once they were restored to the Fellowship. Now, all Soriel had was Éowyn, who was doing a very good job of keeping Soriel’s mind off her missing child so far. Although, she did not expect this to last much longer as the mission carried on. And of course, Éowyn was now asleep. Soriel was left alone to stew in her thoughts which were now about the worst possible things that might be happening to her baby.

Her horrifying musings were interrupted by the sound of soft footsteps in the corridor. Soriel would have missed them if it had not been for her Elf ears. Concerned, for guards made no attempt to disguise their presence, Soriel rose from her bed and padded over to the door to press her ear against it and hear more. Again, she heard the soft steps.

She carefully cracked open her chamber door and peered out. Down the hall, she spotted what appeared to be a cloak disappear around the corner toward Éowyn and Faramir’s room. Fear gripped her heart and caught her breath. Could there really be an intruder? Now, when their guards were away with the king? If so, what was the meaning of this? Who would want to access Meduseld while the king was away and only his wife and sister were here?

 Soriel took a breath for courage and then cautiously stepped outside her room to pursue the intruder. She allowed for the possibility that her tired eyes were playing tricks on her, but she doubted it. She was an Elf after all and her eyes were rarely – if ever – deceived.

As quietly as possible, she tiptoed around the corner and what she saw caused her to gasp. There was a hooded figure standing at Éowyn’s door, trying to open it. Whoever it was, heard her sharp breath and immediately abandoned his endeavor and hurried away.

“Guards!” Soriel called, and to her own surprise, gave chase to the figure. It was much faster than her, and she ran all the way into the throne room. “Guards!”

As she came to a stop, several guards approached.

“What is it, my queen?” one wondered.

Soriel did not answer right away but looked around. The figure was gone.

“There was a man,” she said, finding herself out of breath. She actually was not sure it was a man but for something in her gut that told her so. “He was trying to enter Lady Éowyn’s room.”

“How can that be?” the guard wondered. “We have ensured extra security since the princess…” he trailed off, not eager to upset the queen by reminding her of her loss.

Soriel shook her head. “I know what I saw. I want two men outside Lady Éowyn’s room every night until we are certain there is no threat.”

“And your room as well?” the guard asked.

Soriel had not considered this. It seemed obvious to her that whoever this was wanted Éowyn for some reason. An image swam before her of a hunched man with greasy hair and an ill look about him. But it could not be Wormtongue. Soriel witnessed Legolas shoot Grima in Isengard. He was certainly dead. He had to be.

“Yes, by room as well,” she agreed.

She allowed herself to be escorted back to her room by a pair of guards, but even as she returned to bed, her mind was awhirl with questions. Who on earth could be sneaking into Meduseld? How did he get in? What did he want?  

The following day, Soriel rose early and went to the kitchens. The ladies down there always cheered her, and since all now knew of the princess’s capture, she figured they would raise her spirits again. And they did. To her great relief, they treated Soriel the same as always, and did not mention Éadwynn. For a moment, Soriel was able to at least pretend that her heart was not breaking.

When breakfast was served, Éowyn was awake. She shot Soriel a confused glance.

“What was the meaning of guards at my door this morning?” she asked as she reached for some bread and broke off a bite.

“The strangest thing occurred last night,” Soriel replied, and relayed everything she witnessed.

The color drained from Éowyn’s face at the tale. “It cannot be…” she trailed off and looked wildly at Soriel.

“I do not think it is Grima, though the behavior reminded me eerily of him as well,” the queen said. “I think it is some accomplice of Weynild’s or perhaps the woman herself. Needless to say, we shall have guards by our rooms just in case. If anything should happen to you, your husband and brother would have me arrested.”

Éowyn did not look relieved.  

“What is it, sister?” Soriel wondered. “That man can do no harm to you, alive or dead. And he is surely dead.”

“Faramir knows nothing of Grima Wormtongue or the horrors he caused me,” Éowyn came out with.

“Why ever not?” Soriel asked, surprised.

“I am not entirely certain,” Éowyn admitted, pulling the bread in her hands apart nervously. “Perhaps I felt foolish in my fear. Grima never actually harmed me.”

“Well, not for lack of effort,” Soriel argued. “Éomer told me about Wormtongue’s schemes and that you were the promised price for his service to Saruman. Leila told me how much you worried you would be forced to be his. That is no small fear. It was very nearly a reality but for Gandalf freeing your uncle in time.”

Éowyn continued to look at her plate. “Yes…After Théodred died, Grima cornered me once and I thought…well, I know not what I thought, but I was frightened. He just…haunted me. Ever he walked in my shadow, watching me. As if he were waiting for the right moment to strike.”

“Éowyn, look at me,” Soriel said, and the woman obeyed. Soriel took her sister’s hand. “Grima Wormtongue is dead. I saw it happen. If anything, there is no reason to speak of it to Faramir because it matters not. Please know that your fear is legitimate and if you did tell your husband, he would never pass judgement on you for it.”

At last, Éowyn smiled and relaxed. She shook her head to clear it. “Yes. I love him so dearly for his understanding heart.”

Soriel now recognized what was happening. Éowyn was ashamed to be afraid of Grima. She trivialized it in her mind because she did not want to admit even to herself that she was scared. And she especially did not want Faramir to think her a coward. She said no more of it, though, as this was something Éowyn would have to come to terms with on her own.


	8. Weynild Captured

Through the night, Éomer did not sleep. He lay awake, thinking of his daughter and then of Soriel. He wondered if she was holding up. He wanted to be there for her and he wanted to find his daughter. His heart was torn. Before dawn, though time was difficult to determine through the thickness of the trees, he sat up from where he lay and retrieved the rattle. He turned it thrice in his hand and examined it. Just a day ago, his daughter’s tiny hands grasped it and she smiled.

“My king,” said Gamling, who was stirring beside him. “Are you alright?”

“Truthfully, no,” Éomer answered. “I have never felt such pain.”

Gamling did not immediately answer. Éomer again thought of Soriel. When they first met, they had discussed grief. Hers for Boromir and his for Théodred. It felt unnatural that they should be separated now when it was something they shared.

“I’m sorry,” Gamling finally said.

Éomer had an odd appreciation for the simplicity of this sympathy. “Thank you,” he said.

The others rose in a short time, the Hobbits being the last to wake. They ate before starting again, though Éomer felt more anxious with every minute that passed.

“Things brings me back,” Leila said as they each took some _lembas_ bread.

“Me as well,” Legolas agreed. “Only this time, we are in no danger.”

“I would not be so sure,” Faramir protested. “We know not what dangers may lie ahead or the sort of people we are up against.”

“They are Dunlendings, my lord,” Gamling interjected. “They are not renowned for their skill in battle.”

“Or their wit,” Éomer added.

“That is even more concerning,” Faramir pointed out.

“How do you mean?” Éomer wondered.

“He means that someone else is behind this,” Aragorn explained. “Someone with more of a mind.”

Éomer blinked, surprised. He had not considered something beyond the kidnapping of his daughter. “What would be the purpose?”

“Well, look at who’s here,” said Merry. “Two great kings, a high lord, the prince and princess of Mirkwood.”

“It could be a trap,” Pippin summarized. 

Now more concerned than ever and his mind racing, Éomer insisted they start again. They trekked on through Fangorn. A couple of times, they got turned around because the tracks were mixed up on the forest floor.

“They were separated,” Aragorn said, suddenly coming to stop. “There was some sort of struggle that appears to be with the trees.”

“Can you tell which way the woman went?” Éomer wondered. “She is the most likely to have the princess.”

“Yes,” Aragorn assured him. “Her steps were the smallest.”

He studied the ground for a moment before striking off to the left. This time, Legolas and Leila came to a stop and halted the company.

“Did you hear that?” Leila whispered, and Legolas nodded beside her.

“What is it?” Aragorn replied.

“There’s someone moving up ahead,” Legolas explained under his breath. “They do not yet know we are here.”

Éomer felt his heart quicken. Perhaps this horrible journey would at last be over and he could return to Soriel by nightfall with Éadwynn in his arms. His hand jumped to the hilt of his sword, prepared to fight if need be. The others followed suit.

As silently as they could manage, they crept up on their unsuspecting prey. Merry and Pippin went ahead to get a glimpse of who it was. Their nature allowed them to sneak around unnoticed while taking a great deal of notice of the person they pursued. They slipped through the bushes and in just a few minutes – which passed like days to Éomer, who could now hear his heart beating – they returned.

“It’s Weynild,” Pippin reported. “She’s alone.”

“Does she have the princess?” Leila asked.

Merry shook his head. With that, Leila charged forward, taking everyone by surprise as she hurtled through the trees. They all reacted quickly and followed her into a small clearing, only to witness her forgo her weapons and tackle Weynild to the ground, sending leaves and other debris sprawling. The two women wrestled in the dirt until Leila got the upper hand and forced Weynild onto her knees. Leila rose to her full height and glared at the Dunlending woman with a ferocity that was matched only by Éomer, who drew his sword. Leila took hold of Weynild’s hair and forced the latter’s head backward to expose her neck. Éomer approached and carefully put his blade to Weynild’s throat.

“Where is the princess?!” Leila demanded, stealing the words from Éomer’s lips.

“I know not,” Weynild shot back.

“It is unwise to lie,” Éomer said, pressing the cold steel a little closer to her skin.

“I ain’t lying,” she insisted, keeping a close eye on his sword’s tip. “I was separated from my party in this horrible forest.”

“That much is obvious,” Éomer replied. “Where are they taking her?”

“I’ll never say!” Weynild cried.

“You’d better say, you wretched woman!” Éomer snarled. “Your life depends on it!”

“Éomer!” Aragorn interjected. “Do not act rashly. You need not spill any blood.”

“What does it matter if she lives or dies if she refuses to give any information?” Éomer returned.

“And what of Soriel’s blood?” Leila added harshly. “The blood and tears it took to bring the princess into the world? Should she not answer for what she has robbed them of?”

Éomer looked back at Aragorn expectantly, in wholehearted agreement with Leila. “You cannot expect me to be forgiving.”

“It is not forgiveness I ask of you, but mercy,” Aragorn pressed. “She is the only lead we have.”

“What would you have him do?” Faramir questioned.

“Send her back to Edoras,” Aragon said. “Have her await judgement imprisoned. She must answer for her crime, but do not be so quick to deal out death.”

“She stole your child, Éomer,” Leila reminded him. “And now, even caught, will not confess to her whereabouts. On top of this, she has hurt Soriel so deeply, as she was already sensitive to losing a child. What need is there to wait?”

“Leila!” Legolas scolded.

“She cannot be allowed to go free and we cannot waste time taking her back to Edoras!” Leila insisted. “We must decide now.”

“I agree,” said Gimli. “Have her head and be done with it.”

Weynild started to snicker. “Some king of Rohan,” she said. “You sit here and take the advice of lesser men and witless Halflings!”

“Oi! We haven’t said anything!” Pippin cried indignantly.

“That’s not the point, Pip,” Merry replied with a sigh.

It took a great deal of effort for Éomer to refrain from defending his companions to this woman, but he knew she was not worth it, nor did he have a proper amount of time to explain to her just how qualified each and every one of them were to advise him. He looked at Faramir.

“What say you, brother?” he asked.

Faramir looked a little surprised to be considered, but quickly answered. “My answer is always mercy. Perhaps she can be persuaded. And she may have information about some higher force behind this plot.”

Éomer expected such an answer from his brother in law but was still displeased by it. He sighed. “I cannot lightly ignore the advice of the King of Gondor and my brother-in-law. The woman will be returned to Edoras.”

Leila did not attempt to disguise her annoyed groan, which Éomer inwardly agreed with. He instructed Gamling and the other Rohirrim soldiers to bind Weynild’s hands and escort her back to the queen. They headed back the way the company had come. Éomer hoped that Soriel would be able to handle this. His wife such a soft heart. And yet, he did not expect her to have much sympathy for the woman who had robbed them of her child.


	9. Soriel's Sentence

Gamling and the guards tossed Weynild on the floor, at the foot of the throne. The woman shook with fear, but Soriel now recognized the passion she once mistook for sheer will. It was hatred. Weynild hated Queen Soriel. The queen looked down upon the Dunlending with a frigid air. No one had ever seen her don such a frightening appearance. Many people were present in the hall, as the news of the kidnapped princess spread quickly. Now that the culprit was to face justice, half of Edoras was there. Soriel continued to glare coldly at her former handmaid.

“So,” she said. “I vouch for you, I give you a position here in the Golden Hall of Meduseld, I trust you with my own child, and this is how you choose to repay me?”

“The people of Dunland were driven away from these lands by you usurpers!” Weynild cried.

“I will not be thusly addressed in my hall!” Soriel returned, louder. “You are speaking to the queen!”

Tension thickened in the room. Soriel rose from her seat.

“Where have they taken my daughter?” she asked.

Weynild only glared.

“WHERE HAVE THEY TAKEN MY DAUGHTER?!” Soriel shouted.

Weynild started to laugh. Soriel regained her composure.

“I will ask only once more,” she said. “Where have they taken my daughter?”

“You pay up, and I’ll say where she’s gone,” Weynild replied.

“Pay?” Soriel questioned. “What is it you would have me pay?”

“The land we lost to you horse lord savages!” Weynild cried, no longer smiling.

“The time to claim land has long since passed,” Soriel returned.

“It was our land and you came and stole it!” Weynild continued.

“Enough of your ancient grievances!” Soriel stopped her. “The only thing I offer you in return for my daughter is your life. What say you?”

Weynild spat at the queen’s feet. “You can’t kill me! I’m your only lead!”

“And yet you offer me no information,” Soriel reminded her, as the other woman only glowered. “Well, perhaps it can be coaxed from you.” She turned to Gamling. “Escort this woman to the dungeon. She is to have no food or water until she is ready to confess the whereabouts of the princess.”

It was a harsh sentencing. Most prisoners were given provisions. Those present gasped quietly, but Soriel did not care. Weynild’s eyes went wide with fear as she was clapped in irons and two guards started to take her out of the hall. Éowyn approached Soriel.

“Are you certain, sister?” she asked quietly. “Perhaps mercy would be better for negotiation.”

“I am not negotiating for my daughter,” Soriel replied. “I am demanding her return.” With that, she swept away and went to Gamling as he led Weynild away. “One more thing,” she said, so the people would not hear. “She is to have no rest, either. Should she sleep, she is to be woken every hour to remind her to confess. Is that understood?”

“Yes, my lady,” he said, shaken.

Soriel walked back across the hall to where Éowyn waited for her. Éowyn’s brow was furrowed with concern.

“Soriel…” she began.

“This much must be made clear,” Soriel said. “My daughter returns to me alive and unharmed or every person involved in this plot will suffer before they die.”

Éowyn was stunned. This was not the Soriel she knew. The queen was usually so kind and forgiving. She was never confrontational or had harsh things to say. It was as if they had also stolen the very heart from Soriel. Éowyn glanced down, remembering she too would soon have a child and figured that in a way, that was precisely what they had done.


	10. Éadwynn’s Cry

After sending Gamling away, it was only Éomer, Aragorn, Faramir, Legolas, Leila, Gimli, Merry, and Pippin. Éomer thought this was wise, since too large a group might upset the trees. And the trees had most definitely upset the men. They pressed on through Fangorn, following Aragorn as he located tracks of the Dunlending men who now had the princess. Aragorn stopped frequently as the trail became lost or unclear. It was a long and tiresome way to go about a quest.

“Now this feels familiar,” Gimli said.

“Does it always take this long?” Éomer wondered.

“Aye,” Gimli replied.

“When we followed the Uruks who took Merry and Pippin,” Legolas explained. “It would at times take so long, we thought Aragorn might have fallen asleep as he inspected the ground.”

Leila giggled. “I do recall once I almost asked him, but refrained.”

“You may also recall my work is better done in silence,” Aragorn interjected. He meant what he said, but a smile betrayed his tone.

Leila feigned offense, but said no more. They waited, and Éomer found himself shifting his weight between his feet just so he did not have to stay still. The forest was eerily quiet. Not even the merry song of a bird could be heard from among the trees. And then he heard it. A cry. It was so soft, that had anything else in the wood been moving, he might have missed it. And yet, it felt as if it came from within him. From his very heart.

He took off in the direction of the sound, knowing somehow that it was his daughter he heard. His companions called out in surprise and followed him, but he did not stop. As he ran, the sound became clearer. He was getting close. When it ceased, he stopped, waiting to hear it again so he could pursue it.

“Éomer!” Faramir exclaimed, breathing heavily now that they paused. “What is it?”

Éomer felt no such fatigue. Adrenaline coursed through him the way it once did when he fought Orcs. He looked at his companions, whose faces reflected the questions on their minds. They did not hear what he heard.

“My daughter,” he explained. “I heard her cry.”

“How can that be?” Leila wondered. “Legolas and I heard nothing.”

“Nobody heard it,” Aragorn agreed.

Éomer shushed them and strained his ears. Seconds passed liked years before he heard it again, coming from his left. Again, he sprang toward it and rushed through the trees. His lungs felt like they were burning from the strain, but he could not stop. His daughter was calling for him. His heart was calling for him.

He stopped again with the sound. His chest heaved with his breath now, but he stayed alert. He had to hear it again to know. When the company reached him again, they asked no questions and waited. They did not wait as long before the cry resumed, and this time, the others could hear, for they did not wait to follow Éomer. They all went in the direction of the sound. They followed it for only a few more minutes before they heard mixed in Éadwynn’s cry, the noise of an argument between several men. They halted among the trees and looked out upon a small clearing.

The sight made Éomer’s blood boil. A basket was perched on a tree stump, and within that basket lay his crying daughter. He felt a tugging in his chest to go to her, take her in his arms and hold her tight until the end of days, but he knew he must be patient. There were four Dunlending men standing around and arguing about what to do to appease the princess.

“Weynild brought milk for her,” one was trying to explain as he searched through their belongings. “I just don’t know what’s become of it.”

The apparent leader was rubbing his temples with impatience. “Just find something to give the thing to make it shut up!”

Éomer tore his focus away from the men he in this moment wanted nothing more than to run through with his sword and looked only at his daughter. Her face was red from crying, scrunched up in pain, and tears streaked down her beautiful cheeks. She opened her eyes as she inhaled, and for a moment, it seemed they held each other’s gaze. She stopped crying and her head cocked to the side as if she recognized him. Éomer guessed this sight was a gift from her Elf mother. He actually started to move toward her, but Aragorn stopped him. He shot his fellow king an irritated glance, but did not protest. He knew that if they just jumped in, they might hurt Éadwynn. He looked desperately back at her.

She let out a frustrated whimper and reached her tiny hand toward the bushes where her father was, unable to understand why he was not saving her. She opened and closed her fist, stretching as much as she could. Éomer felt like she had punched him in the gut. He physically ached to go to her, but they had to remain hidden. He saw Aragorn giving instructions to the others quietly.

“What’s she reaching for?” the leader wondered, looking toward the tree line.

“It’s nothing, she’s just a baby,” another said dismissively.

“A baby with an Elf for a mother,” the leader continued. “And the mother is from the Golden Wood. Could be a witch.”

“Éomer,” whispered Aragorn suddenly. “On my command, you and I will attack the leader together.”

Éomer nodded in return. He shifted his weight, ready to pounce the second Aragorn gave word. And he did not need to wait long. Within seconds, Aragon cried “Now!” and the whole group sprang into the clearing. Legolas and Leila to one man, Merry and Pippin to the second, Faramir and Gimli to the third, and Éomer and Aragorn to the leader. These Dunlendings were skilled in battle, and put up a fierce fight, despite their surprise at the attack.

Éomer attacked with strength he never knew he had. Stroke after stroke was powered by furious love for his daughter. These men had put his family through enough, and he would not allow it. And it was not because he was king – it was because he was Éadwynn’s father and Soriel’s husband. He would always be those things before he was king, as those things gave him courage and drive.

With Aragorn at his side, they drove the leader across the clearing. The leader wielded an axe, and was holding off their swords with a horizontal block, but his strength was failing. And he would eventually have to strike back if he hoped for victory. Éomer especially was relentless in the attack.

Suddenly, a new voice entered the fray. It brought the battle to an abrupt halt and all eyes turned on a fifth Dunlending man, who had Éadwynn in his arms and a dagger at her neck.        


	11. Soriel Finds Out

Soriel was unable to focus on anything save the fate of her child after the confrontation with Weynild. It had shaken her. Privately, it also frightened her how harsh she had been. It was unlike her, but every time she thought of her baby, helpless and captured, it made her blood boil. She had never experienced anger like this. Grief she had faced, but rage was something new to her. She supposed it took loving something a great deal more than she ever knew to create such a feeling.

Éowyn was becoming increasingly concerned about Soriel. The White Lady tried everything to keep the queen’s mind off of her child, or to comfort her by reminding her of the faithfulness of the company, but it did little to ease the worried mind. So at last she decided that perhaps the best course was not to distract Soriel from her grief, but face it with her.

She came into Soriel’s chambers, knocking quietly on the door. The queen was standing and gazing at the empty cradle. Her eyes were equally empty. Éowyn felt such a surge of sympathy she almost sighed from the weight of it. She approached her sister and took her hand.

“What troubles you?” Éowyn asked, knowing the answer.

“Many things,” Soriel replied. “My treatment of Weynild, the fate of Éadwynn, and still there is no word from Éomer. I had hoped that after Weynild was arrested, I would see him riding home, my happy princess in his arms. More than this, I…” she trailed off.

“What?” Éowyn pressed.

“You know that on the way to Helm’s Deep, I lost Boromir’s child,” she said. “I feel as if…I am perhaps not meant to be a mother. I brought this girl into the world, and still…I lost her too.”

“Soriel,” Éowyn began. “You cannot carry guilt for events beyond your control. Your first child was lost in a tragic accident. Éadwynn is not altogether lost. And it was only through some scheme you knew nothing about. In neither are you the one at fault. Blame rests only with the perpetrators.”

Soriel did not meet her gaze. “Safety of the Golden Hall is in my realm of control. I even hired Weynild. And now I have lost myself in my grief and sentenced that woman to a horrible punishment. I feel sorry for her when I should not. That sympathy feels like a betrayal of my daughter.”

Éowyn knew Soriel was emotional, but she could not recall ever feeling so much at once. And yet, she respected how deeply Soriel felt. Not everyone had enough love in their heart to care even about someone who had wronged them. Éowyn wondered if becoming a mother would affect her similarly. Would it make her softer?

No, she decided as she looked at Soriel some more. Soriel should be wailing, screaming, and tearing out her hair with grief. Instead, she stood, proud, tall and commanding in spite of it. She recognized in a moment of clarity that Soriel was not soft because of everything she felt. She was not made of porcelain; pale, light, and fragile. She was not made of steel, either; cold, unfeeling, and sharp. Soriel was made of ivory; natural, strong, and enduring. 

“I do not know what fate may bring to you, Soriel,” Éowyn said. “But I do know that motherhood is what you were made for. The way you have endured this shows that you can. You worked hard to bring your daughter into the world, and it shall not be in vain. I only hope I can be half the mother that you are.”

Soriel looked up at last, surprise upon her face. She had not expected Éowyn to reply after being silent for so many long moments, but she was so flattered by the words. Éowyn said nothing lightly. As Soriel absorbed it, she squeezed Éowyn’s hand, which she still clasped.

“Thank you,” Soriel said. “Thank you so much.”

Éowyn only smiled and then took the queen into her arms. The two women held each other for a long time, for Soriel needed strength like Éowyn’s. If Faramir had stayed behind, she would have fought him for Éowyn’s arms tonight. 

When they at last broke apart, a tear had made its way down Soriel’s cheek. Éowyn wiped it with her thumb. Soriel smiled at last.

“Éowyn,” she said. “There has been something else on my mind.”

“What is it?”

“I have noticed some things going on with you as of late,” she continued. “You have nausea and headaches. And you did not ride away with the others to look for Éadwynn. And just now, you said you hoped to be as good a mother as me, only you did not say ‘someday’ or ‘in the future’ as one usually hears in such a statement. So, I must ask you. Are you with child?”

Éowyn was surprised Soriel had noticed all of this with everything going on, but she only grinned before she answered.

“Yes.”

Soriel absolutely beamed. “I am so happy for you!”

Éowyn joined her in gladness. “Thank you!”

They embraced again, and Éowyn felt relieved that she no longer had to keep this a secret and that she could share it with Soriel. There was no bitterness or jealousy in her face. She was truly happy for Faramir and Éowyn.

“Does Faramir know?” Soriel asked as they parted once again.

Éowyn shook her head. “Not yet. I planned to tell him while we were here, but everything happened so quickly.”

“I know he will be thrilled,” Soriel said. “There is yet another reason to eagerly await their return.”

In the midst of everything, Soriel felt a bit lighter now. Happiness grew in her heart at the thought of her future niece or nephew. Before much longer, Éowyn said she was going to rest for a while in her own room. Soriel allowed her to go, but reminded her to be careful since they still had not found the man lurking outside her door that night. Éowyn nodded in understanding before closing the door behind her.

When Éowyn was gone, Soriel knelt down beside her bed and pulled a box out from under it. In this small chest, she kept things she had gathered while travelling with the Fellowship. It included her cloak from Lothlórien with the leaf clasp as well as her gift from Lady Galadriel – a small sack of healing herbs grown in the Golden Wood. It also contained Boromir’s belt, which had been his gift from Galadriel.

Aragorn had been the one to remove it from Boromir’s body. Soriel thought it should go with him, but Aragorn said it was much too beautiful to only go out to sea. He also pointed out that it should go to Boromir’s heir. Soriel had pictured herself gifting the belt to her son, within the halls of Minas Tirith, back when that was her only dream. Now, she decided, it should go to Faramir’s son. It was a gift to Boromir, and should stay in his house.

She ran her hands over the belt. It was still so beautiful. Shining in the low light with the grace of the Elves. She did not know why she held on to it for so long – she should have given it to Faramir long ago. But it was only now that the thought of parting with it did not create that dull ache in her heart.

She quickly hid it in a drawer beside her bed when she heard the door open again, thinking Éowyn had returned. However, when she looked up and heard the door shut and the lock click, her stomach dropped. Her heart rate quickened with shock and he had to stabilize herself on the bed. The person before her answered some questions but ultimately raised much more. Standing before the door with two guards on either side of him was Grima Wormtongue.  


End file.
